


Always in Motion

by CassandraSpayke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: New Republic Era - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Mara Jade is not stupid, Righting (or is that writing?) character wrongs, Vector Prime is just...stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraSpayke/pseuds/CassandraSpayke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What REALLY happened when Mara Jade Skywalker first encountered Nom Anor on Monor II.  Always in motion is the future; this is the one that should have happened. Legends "canon" complicit up to Survivor's Quest, sadly AU after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always in Motion

Mara Jade Skywalker checked her chrono for what had to be the fiftieth time that morning. According to the displayed time, ten minutes had passed since she last looked at it. So it only felt like an entire standard day had passed since the speeches welcoming the various delegations to Monor II began.

She swept her gaze once more around the large, ornate auditorium. Her position, at the back of the room where she could lurk half hidden by the large shimmering purple banners that draped the walls, gave her an almost unobstructed view of the room and its one hundred inhabitants, seated in staggered rows that faced a large, raised stage. She had the entrances and exits mapped, and noted the locations of any possible items that could be used either as a makeshift weapon or a shield.

Not that she was expecting trouble. Far from it.

The rows of seats stretched out before her held visitors from all over the galaxy. They were gathered to celebrate the coronation of Agapos the Tenth, the recently elevated Priest-Prince. Judging by the emotions she was picking up through the Force, Mara wasn't the only one eager for the opening formalities to finish and the actual ceremony to begin. Unfortunately, until the masks that would allow them to breath Monor II's atmosphere were handed out, the delegates had no choice but to stay in the auditorium as long the speeches lasted.

The male Sunesi occupying the center of the stage stopped talking, and Mara started to bring her hands together to clap politely. She lowered them when she realized he was taking a pause to draw breath before he began to speak again.

There were so many other things she could be doing with her time instead of babysitting a minor New Republic official at the coronation of a MidRim potentate. Really, if she had known that devoting her life fulltime to the Jedi would result in pointless trips like these, she might've begged Karrde to keep her on as his second-in-command, regardless of Shada. Or paid Mirax to let her crew on the Pulsar Skate full time. Or started a trading company, this time for real.

Her talents were investigation, information gathering and negotiation. They'd been honed in dark alleys, smoky back rooms and dank cantinas, not brightly lit ceremonial halls. She used them to chase down hardened, suspicious types such as crime overlords, renegade smugglers and immoral corporate chiefs.

In other words, she wasn't a diplomat. Not even close. Her sister-in-law dealt with politicians, not her.

People thought Luke was the calm sibling, thanks to his Jedi Master persona. But Leia was the twin with all the patience. Which was a good thing, Mara thought with a wry smile, considering to whom Leia was married. Not to mention having to deal on a daily basis with three children who all demonstrated a high sensitivity to the Force.

_Children…_

Mara forced her mind back to the welcome speeches. The speaker was now giving a brief history lesson of the planet and the ceremony they were about to observe. Monor II was not a planet hospitable to humans. Its residents, the Sunesi, were amphibian bipeds who depended on the dense cirrifog atmosphere to reach maturity. Mara had to admit that she was looking forward to viewing the cirrifog for herself. Made of billions of tiny pearlescent crystals that shredded non-native lungs when inhaled, it was supposedly as beautiful to see as it was deadly to breath.

The speaker continued, telling of the days when Empire began to mine the cirrifog, endangering the Sunesi juveniles. The Priest-Prince at the time, Agapos the Ninth, spoke out against the practice and was condemned to death by the Emperor.

Mara shifted uneasily. Although she had not been tasked with that particular assassination, she carried out many like them when she served as the Emperor's Hand. Was this why she had been asked to play babysitter, so she could confront her past? But she'd done that, two years ago, when she and Luke investigated the remains of the Outbound Flight project. She made her peace.

So, no, that wasn't it. But she knew there had to be a reason why she was assigned Monor II and not one of the younger, less experienced Knights for whom the mission would have been more appropriate. The Force wanted her here. Even though she had fought against Luke giving the mission to her at first.

It started with a slam of the door to their private quarters on Yavin 4.

"Stang, Luke!" She turned on him as soon as she was sure the door was securely shut and no potential eavesdropping ears were around. "Monor II? Seriously? That's at least two standard weeks outbound journey and two standard weeks back, once you add in the pick up and drop off on Coruscant." Her anger, simmering under thick mental shields ever since Luke made the announcement, bubbled and overflowed. She let it stream across the Force bond they shared, watched him pull up slightly as it scalded him.

"I know." Her husband's clear blue gaze was full of regret. "But it's one of the shorter separations we've had. I understand you're upset, but-"

"The whole point was to put a stop to the separations! At least as much as it was in our power. And this one is very much in your power. Send someone else."

He shook his head. "I don't like it, either. But you're the right person for the job."

Scorn mixed into her ire. "How so? Coruscant only wants a Jedi there in the very unlikely case of a separatist plot to persuade the Monor II to leave the New Republic. Any Knight could handle this. An apprentice could handle this!"

"I can't change the assignment. You're meant to be there." He crossed his arms, his tone final. Luke didn't dare to command her – he knew far better – but this was as close as he got to pulling rank over her. And pulling rank was something Mara knew well from her Imperial days. "If you would stop to meditate on it, you'd know it, too."

"You're trying to tell me this is a prodding of the Force?" Mara scoffed. "The Force wants me to guard some petty bureaucrat on a minor world and be away for at least four weeks? Now?" She wanted to cry. So she laughed, a short, sharp burst.

"If you would stop focusing on the negatives and meditate—" His frustration pushed at her.

"If you mention meditation one more time…" She left the threat unspoken. He would pick up the general direction through their bond.

She felt the snap in his emotions, like a lightsaber igniting to full strength. "Mara," he growled, "this isn't a punishment."

"Then why does it feel like one?"

They stared at each other for a long minute, their gazes locked in battle. His thoughts roiled, too turbulent for her to sense more than flashes bright with color. As it was, at times their bond made it difficult to discern which emotions were hers and which ones were his, especially when a discussion grew heated.

Her gaze dropped first. The anger drained away, to be replaced by something far harder for her to define. She turned and walked to a nearby window, staring out at the jungle beyond. "Do you miss the separations?" she asked, her voice low.

"What?" His surprise resonated loud and clear. "Miss the separations? Whatever do you mean?"

She shrugged, her gaze still fixed on the landscape. The sun had started to set, and the lush vegetation glowed green and gold in the amber-red light. "The separations. Miss having your life – your thoughts – to yourself. And miss the excitement of the reunions, of making every minute count when we knew we had a limited time together. But also knowing when we parted, we could return to our previous lives."

She couldn't see him. But she could feel him become very still. Even his mind was stationary, as if he held his thoughts the way one could hold one's breath.

"No," he eventually said. "Not at all. I resented the separations. I already resent this one. I want you here with me, or me there with you, always. You are my life. The best part of it, certainly." His sincerity, warm and genuine, flowed into her. Pure farmboy honesty, straight up. "Do you? Miss them, I mean?"

She let her shoulders fall, the tension fleeing elsewhere. Her gaze continued to linger on the tangled vines, crowned with dense leaves. Tangled vines, stronger when woven together than the same number of vines would be apart. "I thought I would," she said, returning truth for truth. "Old habits and such. But I don't. As fun and as intense the reunions were, being by your side every day means so much more. More than I ever thought possible."

He padded silently to where she stood, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. She tilted her head, tucking it into the space between his right shoulder and the curve of his jaw. As always, they fit perfectly. Together they watched the sun complete its descent through the jungle canopy.

Mara stirred first. "It's almost time for the evening meal. The others will wonder where we are. We should go."

"It's not a punishment," he said, so softly that she wasn't sure if she heard him or merely picked up the flavor of his words through their bond.

She sighed. "You'd never be capable of thinking such a thing in the first place. Call it an echo from days long gone, when I had failed in my duty."

He turned her to face him, his concern visible on his face as well as through their bond. "You haven't failed. And it's not a duty. At least I hope you don't feel that way," he ended with a half-smile.

She made a face at him. "You know better."

He nodded, and tucked a loose strand of red-gold hair behind her ear. "We have plenty of time," he said gently.

"That's what we said last year. And the year before. Our time isn't infinite, Luke." Her nose began to sting and she blinked her eyes, hard. She would not cry. She would not.

He pulled her close, rocked her tight against him. "I know, my love. I know."

"I thought…when I had that vision on the observation deck of the Chimaera during the peace accords signing, I thought surely by now…." She buried her face in the rough fabric of his robes and took deep, steadying breaths, inhaling his warm male scent. "I don't like failing," she said, her voice a bit stronger. "You say it's not a failure, but it is. It is."

"Mara." Her name was a caress and a promise and a scold, all in one breathed word.

"We're supposedly capable of great power, but this one basic function of biology that even the most common vro-cat can accomplish without trouble eludes us. Eludes me." She'd always been extremely competent at whatever she set out to do. Hunt down Imperials traitors, run a smuggling operation, become a Jedi Knight. Her gender never mattered, much to the dismay of those who would dismiss her for being female. Yet now she was incompetent at the one thing her gender should have easily allowed her to do.

He shook his head, his chin ruffling her hair. "You don't know if that will always be the case. We're both healthy. There's no reason why it won't happen. But the future—"

Her head came up. "If you say 'always in motion is the future,' I will make you wish Jabba had let me on the sail barge and ended your life then," she warned, her lips pulling upwards despite her best efforts to hold them still.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with an answering smile, gently stroking his fingers over her cheek. "But," and his tone turned thoughtful, "I do think the disappointment is overshadowing your usual good judgment."

She narrowed her gaze. "You mean I'm listening to the ore crushing machinery, not the songbirds."

He shrugged, his presence in their bond affectionate but solemn.

She exhaled, a long puff of breath. He was right. She was so focused on what she thought was her destiny – a very much wanted destiny, even if she only expressed it to Luke, and even then only when they were alone and wholly private in their quarters – that she had stopped heeding the subtle whispers of the Force and allowing it to guide her.

She released her grip on his shoulders and stepped back. "How did you get so perceptive?"

"I married into it," he said with a grin.

"And don't you forget that." She undid the clasp that held her braid and shook out her hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. "I think it's time to start the meditation you suggested."

"You don't want to eat first?"

She shook her head. "I'll get something after. I've neglected this too long." She reached for his hand, squeezed it hard. "See you later."

He didn't let her hand go. "Mara," he said, his tone serious but oh so tender, "if that is the path for us, it will happen. Trust the Force."

"I know. I will." She closed her eyes as he bent his head, the better to open herself up to his kiss and to his faith in her, in them, flowing around and through her—

A burst of applause snapped her back to the present. The speech was finally over. Mara belatedly joined in the clapping.

Now there would be a reception, to be followed by the donning of the breath masks so they could enter the cirrifog and witness the coronation. She looked around for the New Republic official she was assigned to guard - Yurjen Bleier was his name, a native of Eriadu – but the assembly was starting to break up. He wasn't in his place of honor at the front of the auditorium.

 _Shavit._ How could she have let her memories run away with her focus? Eyes slammed shut to hide her annoyance, Mara started to scan for Bleier's presence using the Force. A hand tapped her on the shoulder almost immediately.

"Jedi Jade Skywalker?"

She opened her eyes to find her quarry, standing before her. Sometimes it felt like the Force had a wicked sense of humor. "Councilor Bleier. Did you enjoy the speeches?"

A frown creased his round, fleshy face. "You had your eyes closed. Are you reading someone's thoughts?" He leaned in closer and turned his voice down to a whisper, his Ereiduan accent quite strong. "Is it the separatist plot? Did you discover something?"

"I don't read people's thoughts, Councilor Bleier," she said curtly. Thank the Force no other Jedi were around to see her fumble like this.

"Hmm." Bleier pondered for a minute. "That's not what I heard about the Jedi." He brightened. "Well, if you do read someone's thoughts, you can tell me. I promise not to let on."

"Again, Councilor, not how it works."

"Oh."

Something in the syllable caused Mara to turn her senses toward him. Agitation was rising, beginning to pour off him in waves. "But you are worried about something. What's wrong?"

"I'm sure it's nothing." He fidgeted for a moment, pulling at the hem of his formal tunic. "But, I was wondering, ah…who else knows that you are a Jedi?"

She narrowed her gaze. "Unfortunately, the lightsaber gives it away. Not to mention the Skywalker name. Why?"

"But you've been back here, right? In the shadows. And you're not on the official roll as a guest. Nor are you wearing those robes you usually see on the Jedi." Beads of sweat formed along his receding hairline despite the cool temperature of the room.

"No, I'm not on the list," she said slowly. "Nor did I think my robes would be appropriate." She had planned to wear them, but at the last minute she felt prompted to put on a formal dress instead. Albeit a dress that hid her standard grey battlesuit, worn underneath. "I'm here as your bodyguard, and I was admitted under your invitation."

"Excellent, excellent," he said. "I think it would be best if we kept it quiet that you're a Jedi." He looked around the room, as if trying to locate someone. "And, uh, would you mind putting your lightsaber somewhere a little, shall we say, less conspicuous?" He turned back to Mara, his expression wide and apprehensive.

She locked her gaze with his. He was sincere. And he was concerned. Deeply concerned.

The vision she had during her meditation after her – well, it wasn't really a fight, call it an intense discussion – with Luke showed her that her husband was right, as usual. She was meant to be on Monor II. Unfortunately, that was all the insight she received. No clues as to why she needed to be here.

Nor, try as hard as she might, did she see the same images she saw that night on the Chimaera.

She started to suspect she might get the answer soon about Monor II, at least. "Councilor Bleier," she said, her voice soft, "what have you overheard?"

"Well, if a Jedi doesn't know, then I'm sure it's nothing. That's why you're here, right? To protect me. So if it was something to worry about, you'd be aware of it already." He dropped his gaze and started to pick at the buttons on his tunic.

"Again, it doesn't—" She stopped, sighed. "Humor me, Councilor. What do I already know?"

"Oh," and he waved his hand, "there's a representative here from Rhommamool. Another priest, apparently, which is why he was invited to this one's coronation. You know those religious types," he said with a roll of his eyes. Then he glanced at Mara. "Present company excluded."

"The Jedi aren't a religious order," she said, her tone even. "I'll assume you are referring to our host instead."

"Yes, quite." His eyes darted left. "Our host. Well, he's a warrior as well as a priest, of course. Even if he is somewhat…froglike."

Not for the first time, she was reminded that Ereidu was the late, unlamented Grand Moff Tarkin's home planet. And that Bleier was one of the more open-minded Ereiduans she'd met. "You said something about a representative from Rhommamool?"

"Well…" He looked around to see if anyone was listening in. Then he leaned even closer to Mara, his breath scented of the rare Alderaanian wine being served to the delegates. "It seems he doesn't like Jedi. Or the New Republic, to be frank. And he is rather fanatical about droids being tools of evil as well. But he especially doesn't like the Jedi."

"Wait. He doesn't like droids?" Mara's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "And he's from Rhommamool?" Rhommamool had a ground-based economy, if she correctly remembered her long-ago lessons on the various systems held by the Empire. An economy based on mining certain rare minerals. Droids were essential to the planet's livelihood. "That doesn't sound right."

"I only overheard bits and pieces. He kept his voice low, even though he spoke throughout the whole opening speech to his neighbors. Which is why I thought to ask you." Bleier shrugged. "But if a Jedi Knight hasn't picked up on anything untoward, then I'll assume that it is just more of the usual blatherings of a fringe dweller." He glanced at her. "Right?"

"I haven't—" She stopped suddenly as a sharp burst of anger and disgust flared up in her Force awareness. She scanned the room. There. In the far corner, alongside the stage where the speeches took place. An Ishori was gesticulating wildly, her horn-tipped fists waving in the air, coming dangerously close to the medium-sized humanoid standing next to her.

And the humanoid wore black armor and a long black cape, just like…

"Oh, that's not funny," Mara breathed. "Not funny at all."

Bleier followed the line of her gaze with his. "Yes! That's him! Next to the Ishori, that's the Rhommamoolian priest! You know, I'd heard Imperial chic was back in fashion, but I rather think he's taking it a bit far, don't you?"

"Trying to evoke Vader? Yes. I do." On behalf of her family, she even took it personally.

Whatever the black-clad man from Rhommamol was saying, it didn't go over well with the Ishori. The female delegate stomped away. On the other hand, Ishori were well known for their excitability, and so for all Mara knew it was a disagreement over the weather. Still…it wouldn't hurt to get confirmation of Bleier's story.

"Would you excuse me?" she asked, tucking her lightsaber into a specially designed holster accessible through a false pocket in her dress. "I'll be right back."

"Don't go too far," he urged. "The breath masks will be handed out shortly. I don't want to miss being in the front row for the coronation."

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make sure you are front and center." She quickly crossed the room, following the Ishori as the delegate headed toward the nearest refreshment station and its serving droid attendant. The man from Rhommamool, Mara noted out of the corner of her eye, stayed far away from anything mechanical or even resembling machinery. Interesting.

"Excuse me, Madame Delegate?" Mara caught up to the Ishori before she reached the station and put on her most charming smile, honed from years of playing an Imperial Court courtier. "I can't help but notice you seem a bit agitated. May I ask the server to get you a drink?"

"Thank you," the Ishori said in accented Basic. "Nerves are burning, mine. Need cool drink, I. Pay better attention to guest list next time, the Sunesi. Not invite certain systems to send representatives."

"I noticed you seemed to have a conflict of interest with the delegate from Rhommamol." Mara handed her a glass of wine.

"Ha!" The Ishori's loud bust drew curious nearby gazes to them. Mara ducked her head and wished she had thought to cover her red-gold hair. Not that she was as well-known as other members of her family – not even Luke was as recognizable as Leia – but her wedding had received a lot of publicity across the New Republic. Still, that was five years ago. Hopefully her face had been forgotten.

The Ishori threw back the drink and motioned to the droid for another. "Talk too much, the man. A danger to the galaxy the New Republic, says he. The same, droids. Worst of all, the Jedi."

"Why?" Mara asked. "And why the Jedi and droids? What do they possibly have in common?"

"Unnatural, the droids. Give truth, life. Are false, droids. Only nature, no technology. This wants the universe." The Ishori's voice rose with every word, her excitement palpable.

"It's okay," Mara soothed. "But if he feels that way, then why hate the Jedi? The Jedi also believe in life, that all living beings are interconnected in the universe."

"Knows why, who? Have logic, you. The being called Nom Anor, no logic has he." The Ishori looked around the room, her gaze finding the mysterious man in black. If glares could light a room on fire, the auditorium would be a supernova.

Mara also threw the Rhommamoolian delegate a glance. It seemed he had found a more receptive audience this time. Even as she watched, new people walked up to the small knot of humans and aliens forming around the man.

"And the New Republic?" Mara asked. "What's his problem with it?"

The Ishori snorted, loudly. "A false confederation the New Republic, says he. Desire to subjugate, make children of us. The enforcers, the Jedi. Take will from us. Take freedoms from us."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Any being with intellect knows that's absurd. The New Republic means to give freedom back to those who lost it under the Empire. The Jedi merely assist when arbitration is needed. They aren't enforcers."

Or at least that was Luke's intent. But the number of Knights was growing, as were the requests for assistance. Luke couldn't possibly watch over each and every Jedi. Nor, Mara thought grimly, should that be his responsibility. Or at least, not his alone.

"The Jedi, give respect do I," the Ishori said. "Feel the same way, not everyone." She made a dismissive gesture toward Nom Anor. "Memories of dark times, control through minds, still have we. But enforcers taking freedom from us? Not are, the Jedi." The Ishori gave Mara a shrewd glance. "Right am I, Jedi Jade Skywalker? Very pretty, wedding yours."

"You have a good memory," Mara said ruefully. "Please, call me Mara." Next time, she was bringing hair dye. And she would take her assignment more seriously. Perhaps the reason why the Force wanted her on Monor II was to teach her to stop obsessing about potential futures, and focus on what she was meant to do in the present.

"Councilor Ox'tlon, I." The Ishori bowed her head, her version of a handshake, since the horns on her wrist would cause damage to unprotected skin. "Nyapah, call me." She gave an apologetic shrug. "Daughter mine, marries soon she. Vids of wedding yours, watches over and over she. Recognize you, fail not I."

"For everyone's sake, I hope her wedding is more peaceful and has fewer uninvited guests than mine." Mara rolled her eyes at the memory of the disgruntled ex-Imperials who sought to use the event to foment violence. "It wasn't exactly the ceremony we envisioned. But we're happy with the outcome," she ended with a smile.

"Every mother, wish a peaceful life for children. Peaceful wedding, too." Nyapah grinned, baring all eighty-seven teeth. "When children yours marry, see you."

"Yes, well," Mara said, emotional shields slamming into place despite the absence of anyone who could possible read her, "I thank you for your insights into your fellow delegate, Nyapah."

"No need thank me," Nyapah said. "Careful of man from Rhommamol, must you. Persuasive tongue, his. Seek supporters, he." Her brow bones drew together. "Feed family mine by selling droids, I. Listen to him, not I. Different matter, others."

She motioned to herself. "Core world, Isht. Know the living's place in the universe, know technology's place in the universe, the Ishori. Prosper, the Ishori. In the Rim, on the Fringe," she motioned to the group growing around Nom Anor, "different beings. Prosper not they. To excuses, to blame, listen they."

"I've spent plenty of time in the Rim. And I've had my share of dealings with those who would willingly take advantage of less developed worlds. No wonder the inhabitants are suspicious." Mara sighed. She'd heard Leia talk at length about the same issue: the lack of economic parity between the wealthy Core worlds and the poorer outlaying systems. The New Republic was working on bringing the outlaying systems up to the same standards as the Core, but progress was slow and full of frustration.

"Lived long time, I. Older than look, I," Nyapah said with what Mara assumed was an Ishori sly wink. "Empire, New Republic, no matter to some. Target for dissent, they. Same, the Jedi."

"But surely most can tell the difference," Mara argued. "The Empire set out to subjugate and enslave. The New Republic wants everyone to have a voice, and for each world to shape its own future. And the Jedi serve in the name of justice and peace. We desire only to help, never hurt."

"Hurt, help, which be which? Twisted the intent on speaker's tongue." Nyapha's powerful shoulders hunched under the red shimmersilk gown she wore. "Power had the Empire. Power, now has the New Republic. Most powerful of all, the Jedi. What difference for beings with no power, beings who are weak?" Her voice rose again.

Mara locked gazes with Nyapah. The Ishori's small, dark eyes glowed with passionate sincerity, and an equally passionate warning.

Nyapah spoke the truth, Mara knew. She had plenty of experience with organizations that existed or even thrived on the fringe. For a would-be demagogue, one enemy was as good as another. What mattered was using the enemy as a rallying point to sway and gather support to bolster the demagogue's ulterior motives. "I understand your point. Once more, I thank you for your council," she said.

Nyapah shook her head, her coarse black hair rippling madly. "Councilor I, so give council I. Listen, do not most. Exception be you."

"My husband would argue otherwise," Mara said with a small smile. "I'm much better suited to action. This is really more his specialty. Or his sister's."

Three long chimes signified that the break was over. Delegates began to line up, eager to secure a breathing mask and finally enter the cirrifog for the outdoor coronation ceremony. From the corner of her eye, Mara saw Bleier waving her over from the other side of the room.

Nyapah also saw him. "Go must you," she said. "Talk later, we."

"I hope so." Mara nodded her head, a deep appreciative bow, in farewell. She set off to find Bleier, and if her path took her near Nom Anor, what would be the harm? And if she could get a useful reading off him using the Force, even better.

As she drew closer to knot of delegates still surrounding the Rhommamoolian delegate, she could feel the atmosphere in the room change. Moods turned darker, emotions ran hotter. Mara overheard only short snatches of conversation, but they were enough to tell her that his rhetoric found receptive minds:

"—Republic doesn't care about world like these. They sent an Ereiduan to attend the coronation, after all-"

"—only a ruse. The Jedi seek to conquer. They are worse than the Empire if you ask me—"

"—too reliant on tech. The Empire used tech, look where they are now—"

Mara grimaced. At least it was only talk. She'd report the dissent to Luke and to the New Republic officials. And she'd discuss it with Leia. Her sister-in-law might have given up her involvement in the daily workings of the government, but she still knew the ins and outs of Coruscant much better than Mara did. Leia would know when such talk was nothing more than frustrations venting steam, and when such talk posed an actual threat.

The New Republic wanted each world under its protection to decide its own fate. That included deciding to leave the confederation, join the Imperial Remnant, or become independent. Expressing dissatisfaction with the New Republic was part of people's right to speak freely.

However, the New Republic still had to guard against outright terrorism, sabotage and stirred-up violence. And judging by the sour, fermented atmosphere around Nom Anor, Mara got the distinct feeling this was more than just exercising one's right to protest.

As she passed by the Rhommamoolian, she used her Force sense, just to read his presence.

She read…nothing.

She stopped short. A delegate from Bakura neatly avoided a collision at the last second, giving her a raised eyebrow as he stepped smartly around her. Mara ignored him.

She tried to read Nom Anor again.

Nothing.

No.

It was more than nothing.

It was a complete absence in the Force.

From a very young age, Mara had used the Force. She spent her childhood in rigorous training overseen by Emperor Palpatine. He molded her to be the perfect Imperial agent, capable of hearing his voice no matter where she was in the galaxy. Although her skills atrophied with the Emperor's death, her Force sensitivity continued to keep her alive in many deadly situations. Once she finally accepted her true path as a Jedi, and with additional training from Luke, her abilities in the Force grew. Now she was accounted to be one of the strongest and most experienced Knights in the Jedi Order.

She'd never sensed anything like this before.

The closest sensation was an ysalamiri bubble. But ysalamiri pushed the Force away, creating an absence that affected everything in the creature's immediate vicinity. By comparison, Mara could feel the Force flow in and through her and everything else in the room – yet leave a perfect, Nom Anor-shaped hole where he should be.

"The Force is an energy field created by all living things." Under her breath, Mara repeated the first lesson given to Force sensitives who wished to start Jedi training. "This isn't possible."

Was he a droid, perhaps some sort of human replica? But even as the thought formed, Mara dismissed it. She knew how to discern droids through the Force.

Nom Anor could not be felt. At all.

Bleier continued to wave at her from his position at the start of the queue for masks. She gathered her stunned wits and went to join him, giving Nom Anor one last glance.

The Rhommamoolian caught her eye, his strange, glittering gaze sharp and hard underneath his deep black hood.

She didn't require the Force to read the sheer malice directed at her.

Nom Anor knew exactly who she was, and what she was. And he wanted to destroy her, one cell at a time.

Mara had never seen such hatred in another's gaze, not even on her worst days as the Emperor's Hand. She shivered, despite her best efforts to stay unaffected. If he turned the force of that gaze on others…no wonder they agreed with everything he said. One didn't need the Force to have an effect on weak minds, after all.

"Did you read the thoughts of that delegate from Rhammomool?" Bleier hissed at her when she reached his side. "I saw you look at him."

"No." Mara reached into her gown's false pocket and took out her lightsaber, clipping it back on her belt where it belonged. And where it could be easily reached and activated. "How long do we need to stay on Monor II?"

"Well, there's the ceremony, and then the gala ball tonight," Bleier said, ticking events off on his fingers. "Then the breakfast tomorrow – highly select guest list, I doubt that Rhammamoolian will be invited – and then I have meetings with various members of the Sunesi government to discuss aid, reparations from the war, those types of things. The following day—"

"We're leaving after the ceremony," Mara said, cutting him off. "I'll make my reports as soon as we can get secure channels, but I must return to the Jedi Praxeum." A living being that was completely absent in the Force – Luke needed to know. Immediately. And he would get a better understanding if he could sense through their bond what she sensed here.

"But, but," Bleier sputtered. "That would be highly irregular. It would cause a diplomatic incident!"

"I'll take full responsibility." Mara's mind raced. She needed to drop Bleier off on Coruscant before she could head to Yavin 4. If she commed the astromech droid on board the New Republic shuttle now – unfortunately, the _Jade Sabre_ had been deemed too high profile for this mission and she'd left her ship with Luke – it could have the route programmed into the nav system and the ship prepped for launch by the time they returned to the hangar bay.

"You're supposed to be my bodyguard, not dabbling in New Republic interworld relations!" Bleier's face turned from pale pink to a dark purplish red.

"You asked for a Jedi, you got a Jedi," Mara said curtly. "You were right, there is something…off…about the delegate from Rhommamool."

The color in Bleier's face started to fade. "I was right? So you did read his thoughts! I knew it!"

"I…sure, let's say that I did," Mara said. "Can you get a message to Gavrisom?" A living being that was absent in the Force…and fomenting dissent within the New Republic. That spelled trouble in her personal alphabet, and Gavrisom should be made aware.

Bleier pulled himself up, puffed out his chest. "To the Chief of State? Of course."

"Can you set a meeting for us as soon as we arrive on Coruscant?"

Bleier's chest deflated. "Well, that might be difficult…he's very busy, you know…I…"

"Never mind, I'll have Leia do it." Han would be angry with her for dragging Leia into yet another New Republic brush fire, but what good was having an ex-Chief of State as your sister-in-law if you couldn't use her to gain access to the upper echelons of government when needed?

Maybe she should comm Luke and ask him to rendezvous with Leia and her on Coruscant, and the three of them could meet with Gavrisom. Despite the peace treaty with the Imperial Remnant, her status as a Jedi Knight, and years of happy marriage to the hero who blew up the Death Star, the New Republic still looked at her with sideways eyes. But they usually listened to the Luke and Leia tag team.

Usually.

Plus, it would shave several days off her separation from Luke. Finally, a cheerful thought.

"Oh, here come the masks!" Bleier rubbed his hands with anticipation. 'I've heard so much about the cirrifog. I can't wait to see it for myself."

Mara followed his gaze. Where the speaker once stood on stage, now a long table draped in richly glowing cloths of purple and gold appeared. The cirrifog masks were neatly arranged by delegate name, each one calibrated to deliver the optimum breathing experience per species. Mara had to admit that not only were the masks practical and necessary, but also very beautiful. They were individually decorated with the airborne crystals the masks were designed to filter out.

Bleier stepped up first to receive his mask, using a makeshift set of stairs set up at the front of the stage to take his mask from the Sunesi female who held it out to him. Mara followed behind him. She reached out to take her mask -

\- and her danger sense flared into immediate hyperalert.

She held the mask with the tips of her fingers. Something was wrong with it. Terribly wrong with it. But a visual examination showed no sabotage, no ripped seams or hidden dangers. She reached out to the Force, hoping to receive guidance.

The mask had the same absence in the Force as Nom Anor.

Oh, metal and cloth and crystals were present. She could find and identify those components of the mask without problem.

But on the surface of the breathing apparatus, thousands of microscopic pinpricks eluded her.

It was if the mask had been coated with some sort of substance that didn't exist in the Force. A dangerous substance.

She looked up. Nom Anor was watching her. He turned his head away, but not before she saw those strange eyes glitter with…triumph?

Next to her, Bleier lifted his arms to slide the mask over his face.

Mara slapped it out of his hands, dropping her mask in the process. "Don't put it on," she hissed.

The purple-red rose in his complexion again. "Jedi Jade Skywalker, I really must protest. You have overstepped your boundaries too much this time. I—"

"Sabotage," she said, shutting him up. She turned to the delegate receiving his mask behind her and snatched it out his hands. He cried out in protest, but she didn't care.

With a graceful leap, she landed on the stage. Her lightsaber ignited with an audible snap-hiss. The blue blade glowed as she held it crossways in front of the table. The delegates queued up to receive masks immediately backed away. The young Sunesi girl abandoned her post. She ran to the back of the stage, well out of the reach of the humming weapon.

One or two screams broke out, followed by several shouts. Then a cacophony of raised voices in all languages and a variety of accents broke over the auditorium. Bleier looked as if he couldn't decide whether to join her in quarantining the table, or to deny any and all association with her. Through the crowd she saw Nyapah push her way toward the stage, no doubt coming to assist with whatever Mara was doing.

But what she really wanted was the security team. Right on cue, two Sunesi ran toward her, wearing uniforms with the royal crest embroidered on the chest and carrying blasters in their hands.

Mara smiled. The guns were shaking in the guards' grips. From the nauseous awe in their expressions, it was obvious that although they'd heard about lightsabers and Jedi, they had never seen the two in action before.

"Honored guests and delegates," she called out to the crowd, "I mean you no harm, and no disrespect. But the coronation of the Priest-Prince is under attack."

The Sunesi guards stopped in front of the stage, looked at each other, then turned and gaped up at Mara. "Attack? We see only one weapon. Held by you," said the older of the two.

"The masks. The breathing surface has been compromised by a foreign agent. "

The Sunesi looked at each other again. "And that was determined by whose authority?"

"Jedi Knight Jade Skywalker," Mara said, wincing a bit. It really did go against everything she had been taught to make a public spectacle of herself. But she didn't see an alternative.

"The Jedi were not invited," said the younger Sunesi. He held his blaster higher.

"I'm here by request of the New Republic," she replied, aware that Bleier was doing his best impersonation of a decorative tree and standing completely still. "Please understand, I wouldn't disrupt the gathering if it wasn't very important. But it is imperative that these masks be scanned for contaminants."

Over the murmur of excited voices, Mara heard the sound of one person loudly clapping. Heads turned, and the room quieted. Nom Anor stepped forward, his black cloak swirling around him.

He stood still before her, pointing an accusatory finger. "Jedi," he hissed. He drew the word out so that it sounded like Jeedai. "It is as I foresaw. The Jedi, they wish to control us. The New Republic, the same." He turned around, the black cloak billowing impressively around him. Vader couldn't have done that move better himself, Mara thought grimly.

He addressed the crowd before him. "The Jedi wish to make us like children. They wish to subjugate us through fear of the unknown, fear of things they say only they can sense or feel. They claim to have superior powers only to make us believe we are inferior. They wish to bedazzle us, draw black curtains over our eyes. And then their puppet, the New Republic government, will swoop down and take everything we have earned, everything we have built, for their own corrupt purposes!"

"Now see here," Bleier sputtered. "That's not true at all—"

"No?" Nom Anor turned his strange, glittering gaze on Bleier. "The ship you rode in, paid for the New Republic, was it not? Paid for by monies collected from worlds like this one, worlds exploited like my own beloved Rhammamool to provide wealth for the wealthy while the poor wither and die! All so you can gallivant across the galaxy in luxury, while my people suffer in poverty and silence." His voice rose and fell like a trained holovid actor, the tone sonorous and ringing.

Bleir opened his mouth to protest, but Anor cut him off. "No more! The false confederation of the New Republic and its masters, the Jedi, will not manipulate me. I demand a breathing device so that I can honor my fellow priest-brother." He leaped onto the stage, the black cloak flowing behind him, and faced Mara. "Give it to me. Jeedai," he sneered.

Mara locked gazes with him. Or at least she tried. With a start, she realized his eyes didn't match. The glittering effect only came from one of them, although they both blazed with hatred.

Despite her best efforts, she shivered. There was something very wrong with Anor. It wasn't just that he was absent in the Force. It was as if the air around him was…tainted.

As were the masks. They resonated with the very same taint.

Mara would lay very good odds that whatever she detected on the masks had been put there by Anor.

She kept her lightsaber held crossways in front of her, but stepped back from the table. "Take your mask," she said. "They're labeled." Then she turned to the crowd, beginning to press forward against the stage now that Nom Anor had successful challenged her. "Honored guests," she called again. "I am not here to disrupt this ceremony. I wish the Priest-Prince a long and successful reign. All I ask is these masks be tested by a scientist. I have reason to believe they have been contaminated."

"I do not fear the Jedi," Nom Anor said, putting the mask on and facing her.

With the breathing apparatus on and his voice filtered, the resemblance to Vader was even more striking, Mara thought. Of course, Vader's mask hadn't been graced by a highly stylized graphic pattern picked out in crystals. Despite the incongruous decoration, the effect still had the power to send an unpleasant chill trailing down her spine.

"Nor should anyone fear the Jedi," she said, with a bit more bite than was necessary. "I am trying to ensure the guests' safety."

"Smooth words to cover your kind's deceptions," Nom Anor said. He turned to the crowd. "Behold, I wear the mask. Behold, I stand hale and hearty. Behold, the lies of the Jedi!" His voice thundered through the auditorium.

Mara tamped down her anger and frustration. Anor wanted to provoke her into a confrontation. She would not give him one.

"Honored guests," she said once more to the crowd. "I leave it up to your discretion. I will wait for a scientist to assess the masks. If you wish to wait with me, I welcome your company." She shut down the lightsaber, attached its hilt to her belt, and turned with arms crossed to Nom Anor. "But ask yourself who is the deceiver: the one who wishes to wait and ensure the guests are safe, or the one who encourages others to act rashly?"

"Hear, hear!" Bleier called. He tugged at his formal tunic and stepped forward, standing on the floor auditorium directly below Mara's position on the stage. "There is no harm in having the masks examined."

"If there is deception, it is yours, Jeedai." There was that strange pronunciation again. "There is nothing wrong. You only pretend there is to ensure you receive the trust of the children you seek to manipulate."

Mara regarded Anor coolly. His use of the word children was beginning to feel like a personal taunt. She didn't appreciate it. "If nothing is wrong, then let them be inspected and prove me a liar."

"Yes." Nyapah's voice rang out. "Test the masks, say I." The Ishori pushed her way to Bleier's side.

Murmurs of agreement from various delegates met her statement.

"And miss the ceremony?" This came from one of the humans who earlier had listened appreciatively to Nom Anor. "Hand them out! This is a New Republic ruse to interfere with individual planetary matters! The Jedi wants to make it look like only she and her kind can protect us, we can't protect ourselves!" He was met with loud agreement from several others.

Voices in the room started to rise again. The Sunesi guards swung their attention – and their blasters – from Mara and Anor on the stage to the crowd starting to surge toward the front of the room. Mara didn't like the way the weapons continued to tremble in their grips.

The situation was threatening to get out of hand. Mara found herself wishing for even one tenth of Leia's diplomatic skills. As it was, she knew her involvement in disrupting the coronation would not exactly endear her further to Gavrisom and the other New Republic officials.

She motioned to the young Sunesi female still cowering at the back of the stage. "Give the masks to those who wish to receive them," Mara told her. "They've been warned. It's their decision if they wish to continue."

The girl nodded, and slowly made her way back to the table. Mara stepped to the edge of the stage, pointedly ignoring Nom Anor's triumphant, baleful stare. "The masks are here for the taking, if you want one," she addressed the delegates. "The Jedi are not your parents, nor do we have any desire to be. You are adults, elected to represent your worlds at this ceremony. I choose not to wear a mask until they are inspected. You must make your own choice."

She turned her back on Anor and walked to the far right of the stage, using the set of steps she found there to descend and join the crowd below. Then she pivoted and waited, arms tightly folded. Her right hand continued to rest on the hilt of her lightsaber.

Anor still stood on stage, a baleful black shrouded creature. A few humans and one or two aliens approached the young girl, gave her their names, and received masks in return. But despite Anor's angry glare in their direction, they held the masks gingerly and did not put them on. The rest of the crowd, restless and uneasy, stayed where they stood. The air filled with nervous anticipation.

The crowd didn't have to wait long. The doors at the back of the room flew open, revealing a Sunesi guard. Judging by the decorations on his uniform and his overall demeanor, he held higher a rank than the two guards who still had their blasters out, although thankfully the weapons were no longer trained on anyone. The crowd parted so the guard could make his way to the stage unchecked. He climbed onto the stage, said something to the young girl, and smartly executed an about-face to address the assembled group.

"Gentle beings and revered guests," the guard said. "I am Dekkay, Captain of the Priest-Prince's Honor Guard. On behalf of his Most Exalted Presence Agapos the Tenth, we invite you to enjoy a concert of traditional music." A small parade of Sunesi men and women carrying various musical instruments followed in his wake. "The coronation ceremony will continue in one standard hour. Many thanks for your patience." He turned to Nom Anor. "The platform must be cleared, honored one." His tone was serene, but firm.

Nom Anor said nothing. The contemptuous swirl of his cloak as he exited the stage spoke volumes.

The table and masks were swiftly switched out for musicians and instruments. The atmosphere in the room relaxed as the soothing, soft sounds of an ancient Sunesi ballad washed over the crowd. The tightness in Mara's chest began to dissipate.

"Jedi Skywalker." Dekkay approached her, the two other guards trailing in his wake, their blasters finally holstered. "We have taken the masks to the Priest-Prince's private science center for testing. Can you tell me more about your suspicions?"

Mara told him what she had sensed. He nodded. "We have extra breathing masks. They were not stored with the others. If I have one brought to you, would you be so kind as to examine it?"

"Of course," she replied. He motioned to the two guards, who moved toward the exit. "Please extend my sincere apologies for disrupting His Excellency's coronation," she continued.

Dekkay smiled. It was a surprisingly feral smile, all the more startling for its appearance on his gentle, round Sunesi face. "Our Priest-Prince is not gifted with foresight like the Jedi—"

"It's not really foresight," Mara mumbled.

"—but he is concerned about the increasing stories of New Republic dissent being fomented outside the Core. Monor II suffered under the Empire. Our children…," Dekkay's voice faltered. He cleared his throat and continued, "Our children were greatly harmed by the mining of the cirrifog. Many did not survive."

Mara bowed her head. Reminders of the cruelty she had once served still had the power to cut like a freshly sharpened vibrobrade. "I am sorry to hear that."

Dekkay was silent for a moment. "It was many years ago, now. But we still remember. We do not wish to be under the yoke of another, ever again. However," and his tone lightened, "we do believe the galaxy needs a central voice that represents us all, and that voice is the New Republic. His Excellency was afraid his coronation might be used as a platform for these dissenters, because of our past. It seems he was not wrong."

"No," she said, "although I don't know why the masks were sabotaged."

There was something else going on. Something she couldn't see yet. But she would. Or Luke would. She'd make sure of it.

Mara and Dekkay continued to chat about Monor II and the unusual life cycle of the Sunesi. One of the guards trotted back up to them, holding an unadorned mask. She took it from him. Her senses told her it was just a tool for breathing, nothing more. "This one is fine," she said, handing it back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a certain black cloaked figure with whom I need to have strong words." She looked around the room.

Nom Anor was nowhere to be seen.

She stretched out her senses. No hole in the Force. It flowed naturally throughout the auditorium.

"The delegate from Rhommamool," she said to Dekkay. "Do you know what ship he came in, and where it is docked?"

"No. But I can find out." He took out his comlink and spoke in his melodious native language. When he turned back to Mara, he did not look happy. "I'm afraid his ship was just cleared to take off."

"That was fast," she bit out. She should have gone after Anor immediately. He was behind the sabotage. She knew it with certainty. But why? And why did he seem to have a special hatred for her and the Jedi?

"It is most suspicious," agreed Dekkay. "However, if you will grant me permission, I must oversee the substitution of the masks."

"Yes, of course," she said. The musicians played another tune, an instrumental piece that reminded her of rushing water and cool forest breezes. The mood in the room shifted to eager excitement, the delegates looking forward to the coronation and the festive celebration to follow.

She agreed with them. She really did want to see the cirrifog.

Unfortunately, at the moment when Agapos the Tenth was crowned, Mara found herself sitting in a conference room deep inside Monor II's Royal Science Center, examining a high-resolution holo of the scan run on the original breathing masks.

"If you look here, Jedi Skywalker," said Vonnuvi Renon, the Ithorian who headed up the xenobiology department, "you'll see the surface has been, well, painted with some sort of microscopic seed or spore. It's definitely biological in nature. But it isn't viral or bacterial."

"What does it do?" Mara asked. "Is it some sort of toxin?" If it were benign, it wouldn't have set off her danger sense.

Vonnuvi shook her head. "We don't know. We're running tests right now. We've never seen it before. "

"Never? Can you at least trace what planet it is from?"

"That's just the problem," Vonnuvi said, her wide-flung eyes showing confusion and not a little disbelief. "It doesn't seem to have originated from any known star system. It shares no common markers."

"So it's from the Unknown Regions?" Mara guessed.

"Or even further," the Ithorian said. "I ran the scans through multiple scientific databases across the galaxy and no one can come close to identifying an origin."

 _"There are a hundred different threats out there that would freeze your blood if you knew about them."_ The words Mara heard on Nirauan five years ago, when Admiral Voss Parck and his colleagues were seeking to recruit her to serve the Empire of the Hand, flashed across her mind.

The door to the conference room flung open. A Sunesi in a white lab coat stood in the doorway, his round eyes wide with disbelief and not a little fear. "Dr. Renon. I beg pardon for disturbing you and your guest, but you both may wish to see what is happening to the test subjects."

Mara sprung to her feet and followed him. He led them to a small observation room overlooking a fully equipped laboratory. Inside the lab, workers clad in white biohazard outfits gathered around a small table. Vonnuvi left Mara at the view window and, putting on her own biohazard outfit, the Ithorian stepped inside the lab to confer with her colleagues. When she returned to the observation room, she looked grave and not a little upset.

"This lab is where we examine the effects of various alien microbes on Sunesi biology. We also examine the effects on the other species that have settled on Monor II, such as humans and Ithorians," Vonnuvi explained. "We create non-sentient test subjects that mimic the requisite biological functions, thus allowing us to see the effects without endangering lives."

Mara nodded. "And you are testing what you found on the masks?"

"Yes," Vonnuvi said. "We are simulating the effects of the bio-agent on fifty-six prototypes, representing the species present in the auditorium." She turned her glance toward the view window and the table it framed. "It appears that whatever it was on the mask, it is deadly to at least two different species. So far."

_Five standard weeks later, on Yavin 4_

Mara looked up from her datapad as Luke entered the main room of their living quarters. Or at least, she sensed it was Luke through their bond. She couldn't get a visual confirmation, as he was mostly hidden behind the towering arrangement of flowering plants he carried. The early morning sun streaming through the windows made the vivid fauna glow.

"Where did that come from?" she asked.

He put it on the low table in front of the couch. "Guess."

"Not another gift from Agapos the Tenth?" Mara took the small card her husband held out. "Ah. Well, this one isn't from him personally. It's from the team at the Monor II Royal Science Center. Thanking me for allowing them to be the first to discover an apparently extragalatic pathogen."

Luke settled on the couch next to her. "By 'apparently,' I take it they are still conducting their research."

"In her latest message, Vonnuvi said the spores in their simulations attacked each species in a different way, but the outcome was always the same. Fatal." She couldn't suppress the small shiver that ran down her spine.

"If I didn't value my life, I'd say I told you that you were needed on that mission." He gave her a fleeting sideways glance, but she could feel the glee he tried to hide behind his straight expression.

"No, you're allowed to rub it in. I let myself be distracted. If I hadn't meditated and felt the same prodding of the Force that you did, I might have stopped looking for a reason to be there and missed it altogether." She picked up his hand and squeezed. "You get a free pass. This time only," she warned.

A bright grin lit his face. "So noted."

"Speaking of missions, have you heard anything more from the team you sent to Rhammamool?"

He shook his head. "I'm expecting a report later today. They're still trying to catalog all the strange items they found in Anor's office."

"Too bad he got away." Mara would have liked a face-to-face "conversation" with him.

"But he didn't have time to destroy everything before he left. I'm thankful for whatever we can get."

"I agree." She sighed. "Luke, if he is extragalactic, as all indications are leaning…and he's apparently capable of biological warfare…what do we do next?"

He echoed her sigh. "I'm not sure. Pay closer attention to demagogues such as Anor who come out of nowhere and stir up dissent with the New Republic—"

"And the Jedi. Don't underestimate his hatred for us." She could never forget Anor's loathing, radiating like a supernova.

"And the Jedi," Luke agreed. "Set up extra security on the listening stations in case there are others out there like him seeking to enter our galaxy. Send out Jedi to scan for humanoids who appear as holes in the Force in case he's not alone."

"Tall order. You've replenished the ranks of the Jedi, but we certainly don't have anywhere near the numbers necessary for a galaxy-wide search." She looked away from him. The encounter with Anor had affected her more than she liked. It made her feel inadequate and ill prepared, two emotions she fought hard against all her life.

"Hey." Luke reached out a hand and gently caressed her cheek, encouraging her to meet his gaze again. "We both know the future is uncertain and there are no guarantees. But we are better prepared to face it, thanks to your quick thinking on Monor II."

"You mean the quick thinking that nearly caused an intergalactic incident and a formal complaint to be registered against the Jedi, until Councilor Bleier realized he had been saved from a horrible, painful death." Mara rolled her eyes, her equilibrium returning.

"Neither you nor I will ever rival Leia when it comes to diplomacy," Luke agreed. "But you handled it fine. And now Bleier is one of the Jedi's biggest supporters on Coruscant, so there's that."

"And the New Republic is aware there is a threat out there, which might cause the member worlds to pull together and stop squabbling," she said.

"Now you're dreaming," he said, and they both laughed. "But yes, it might help to unify sentiment behind the New Republic. Especially the Rim worlds, if they learn that their natural suspicion of the Core and Coruscant is being used to manipulate them."

"Speaking of peoples on the Rim – or beyond – what about the Chiss?" she asked. "And Parck and Fel? Have you heard anything more from them?" When Mara received the first reports on the unknown biotoxin, she forwarded them to the Empire of the Hand to see if they had run across anything similar during their exploration of the Unknown Regions. They hadn't. But they were just as concerned as she was about its discovery.

Luke nodded. "I traded messages with Aristocra Formbi earlier, while you were still sleeping. Unfortunately, at the moment they have no Jedi – well, there's Evlyn, but she's far too young and untrained – so they aren't able to scan for an absence of the Force. However, they are increasing their monitoring of their territory. And they might be convinced to make formal overtures to the New Republic."

"Really?" Mara raised an eyebrow. "I can't imagine either Coruscant or Bastion being overjoyed at learning just how powerful the Chiss Ascendency and the Empire of the Hand have become."

She felt Luke's mood turn somber. "We can't be concerned about hurt pride or misplaced competitive sentiment. You sensed the spores and Anor are connected to the horrors we learned about when we were on Nirauan. And the Chiss, as well as Parck and his colleagues, have the best handle on what those horrors might be. We need them. And they just might need us."

"You're right, of course. Still, I'd love to be in the room when councilors such as Bleier and Fey'lya find out about the Empire of the Hand." She rubbed her temples. She hadn't eaten breakfast yet and she was starting to feel lightheaded as a result.

Luke chuckled at her words, but his mirth quickly died as he examined her closely. "Anything wrong? You suddenly turned very pale." His Force sense pushed against hers, seeking to learn more. 

"Stay out, Skywalker. I need to eat, that's all." She stood up, picking up her datapad. "Look, Nyapah sent me holos from her daughter's wed—" She stopped, the lightheadedness threatening to turn into a full faint. She felt herself wobbling.

"Mara?" Luke's concern washed over her. He sprang to his feet, his hands steady on her shoulders.

"Breakfast might be a good—" At the thought, her stomach rebelled. Violently. No, breakfast was not a good idea.

Running to the 'fresher, however, sounded like an excellent plan. She shrugged out from under his grasp, and suited action to thought as best she could on unsteady legs.

When she returned to the main living area, she felt much better. His apprehension, on the other hand, had built to tidal wave proportions in her absence. "I'm fine," she said, trying to forestall him. "Probably just an overreaction to all our talk about unknown horrors."

His narrowed gaze, plus the annoyed worry she picked up though their bond, told her he wasn't convinced. He knew her too well to buy that she suddenly turned squeamish.

It didn't sound convincing to her, either.

She bent down to pick up her datapad from where she had dropped it on the sofa. The fragrance from the floral arrangement resting on the low table hit her nose with all the subtlety of a backed up sewer system on a lower Coruscant level. Her stomach churned in response despite the absence of any remaining contents. "No, it's the scent of these flowers. We need to get them out of here."

"They smell fine to me," he said, but he bent down and picked up the arrangement. "I'll dispose of them. Maybe Cilghal will like them for the infirmary."

"She's welcome to them. However, I'm not sure she'll like them. She wants to help people, not make them sicker."

Talk of Cilghal reminded Mara once more of the science center on Monor II and the doctors trying desperately to pinpoint the origin of the spores. If she had worn that mask for hours and hours, what would have happened to her? In the last report she read, the spores caused human hosts' cells to mutate and turn on each other. Not one human biological system was immune from the devastating consequences: not the nervous system nor the circulatory system nor the reproductive system…

Reproductive system.

Mara's breath hitched. She counted back days in her head.

_Stars._

Maybe she should go with Luke to deliver the flowers to Cilghal. And see if the healer could conduct a quick exam while Mara was in her office.

A jolt in the Force came from her husband. He peered at her from behind the giant floral arrangement, his blue gaze wide and wondering. "Mara?"

He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts. She stared back at him, her gaze mirroring his, and raised one warning finger. "Don't."

"I won't. But do you really think—"

"I don't. I mean, I do. I mean, it's possible, but we've been disappointed before…" Her voice trailed off. Without thinking, her right hand came up and briefly touched her abdomen.

"I'm coming to see Cilghal with you."

"You have to. I'm not carrying those flowers. I don't want them anywhere near me." She threw on a cloak, protection against the morning chill that could still be felt despite the bright sunlight, and strode toward the door.

When she reached it, she hesitated and turned to him, following on her heels. "What if I had persuaded you to let me stay here instead of going to Monor II? And we didn't know there are apparently extragalactic agents out there stirring up trouble against the New Republic and the Jedi? Who knows what damage they might have caused. Or what if I had been too distracted to listen to my danger sense, or didn't think Nom Anor's absence in the Force was ominous? I'd be sick. Maybe even dead. And then I might not be…" Her hand touched her stomach once more.

She felt her husband's warm reassurance flow in and through her. "But you did listen to the Force. You went on the mission and identified the toxin. The future may be always in motion, but the past is written. Let it go."

And so she did.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> For some reason – maybe it's the announcement of new films – I find myself thinking of the Star Wars EU and all the reasons why I used to love it and all the reasons why I was so frustrated with the New Jedi Order and what followed.
> 
> And part of that frustration: Mara's disease in the New Jedi Order never, ever made story sense to me.
> 
> I know the meta reason why R.A. Salvatore made her ill: when he was given the assignment to write Vector Prime, he didn't want to include Mara Jade in the story. Unfortunately, in Vision of the Future - the last book published prior to Vector Prime - Mara and Luke Skywalker were engaged, and their wedding took place in the comic book Union. Her absence would have been noticeable, and killing her offscreen would have caused much of the Bantam audience Del Rey so badly wanted to exploit to flee in disgust. So Salvatore decided to make Mara very ill instead. (He was, however, able to talk his way out of writing the young children Luke and Mara were supposed to have.)
> 
> And hey, a disease can be dramatic and add depth – but only IF Mara's disease made sense within the story and was in character.
> 
> But it doesn't and it isn't. First, Salvatore has Mara meeting Nom Anor at some point in the past, yet apparently she never thought it was strange that he was wholly absent in the Force and/or fomenting dissent against the Jedi. Even though Mara, with her natural suspicion and pragmatism, would be the first character to notice. In fact, ANY Jedi worth their knighthood should have noticed.
> 
> Next, Anor infects Mara and at least a hundred others with his bioengineered "coomb spores." Mara is the only one to survive, thanks to the Force, but as Vector Prime begins she is basically fighting late stage IV metastasized cancer. Anor doesn't use the spores on anyone else, apparently because they kill the hosts too fast for the spores to infect others and create a pandemic. Yet here is Mara, breathing and sneezing and supposedly at least kissing her husband – and the spores are present, thanks to a ridiculous scene Salvatore put in about lizards smelling her breath – yet Mara doesn't infect anyone else?!
> 
> In Balance Point, author Kathy Tyers tries to make the best of the incredibly poorly written hand she was dealt by previous authors. She's the one who comes up with the circumstances under which Anor infected Mara: on Monor II, at the coronation of Agagos the Tenth, while Mara acted as a bodyguard for a minor New Republic official. But again, the story logic is absent. Why would Mara Jade Skywalker be assigned to what was basically a babysitting mission on a fairly inconsequential world? Surely Mara – who would have been at or near Master level – would've been overqualified and her skills needed elsewhere. Luke's rebuilt Order is numerous, but not THAT numerous.
> 
> And Tyers comes up with the method of infection: Anor painted the spores on the breathing masks necessary for off-worlders to breath the Monor II atmosphere. But again, this is Mara, whose danger sense is more sensitive and better honed than her husband's. Not to mention that apparently the spores have the same absence in the Force as Anor (when she fights the disease, Mara can't control the spores, only her cells' reaction to them). And Mara doesn't notice the Force-absent spores on her mask, nor does her danger sense go off? SRSLY?!
> 
> So.
> 
> This what REALLY happened when Mara Jade Skywalker was sent to Monor II.
> 
> That other story? It's a really bad legend.


End file.
